


Ruler

by tissuesarehot



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Insecurities, M/M, Mentions of painful moments, Poetic, shyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-20
Packaged: 2020-03-02 17:22:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18815527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tissuesarehot/pseuds/tissuesarehot
Summary: it's always been in them; to balance each other, to never lose sight of one another. it's all there is, all that it ever will be. it's their past and present and will evidently be their future. the fusion of their instability to eventually become something bigger and hold more energy. it's their balance that never seem to die.





	1. balance

**Author's Note:**

> It's not really like normal fics but its cool, as long as the ghoul boys are mentioned :)))))

they're a ruler on the tip of a needle. the slightest hit of wind can unbalance the position, tumbling it over to one side, or it'd be shaking, quivering like under an earthquake as if challenging the laws of gravity, teasing the audience on whether it'd fall, whether it'd slide down the earth and reach the void where no one can ever find it again.

to one side is the trepidation, the uncanny anxiety that sparks under a little rain. it has wide eyes and parted lips, gasping waves rolling out of their throat, trembling fingers that always reach out for something stable, a rock, a sense of sanity that floats unreachable, sometimes within reach but can't be held, can't be grasped at, but can only be given.

the other side is the serenity, the laughing madness, the spawn of acceptance and belief in the quietness of the world. they don't trip, they don't brush over any stumbled flotsam and they row with their palm and stills the water after every motion despite the weight of the boat disturbing the peace. they're that hand on your shoulder to spread easeness over the tension of your muscles, they're that sudden prick of calmness after a maelstrom of thoughts and emotions and the parting of clouds to let the sun beam down, soaking any painful, anxious remnants layering the ground.

it's these sides that are not impediments to the ruler's stability, to the ruler's reasonable sanity and unwillingness to trip over and fall. it's their balance that don't crush the needle holding up the ruler, their absence of a push and pull _becoming_ the needle; so infinitesimal yet so consequential.

______


	2. Gifted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and perhaps, he's gifted just for ryan.

ryan holds no fear to what shane offers. whatever he gives he'll just take it, he'll grab it and hold it close to that chest of thundering heart beats and exploding fervour. it is what keeps him from floating away and remain grounded, it also keeps him from sinking down further. it keeps him on the middle ground.

the world is unstable in his wide eyes, full of hysterical depths that can never be explained but with shane it's stable, with shane it always will be steady like still waters and blue skies and the smell of morning and soft duvets. with shane its the relief of the crack of dawn after an endless, tiring night. with shane it will always be okay. during moments of stumbles and panicking thoughts, he'll step into the circle shane has drawn like a child with a stick in a pile of sand, so imperfect yet trusting, safe. ryan has done this almost every second he's in those locations, during those hovering sensations of being watched and unsafe; he's done this all unconsciously. it's all because it's been imprinted in his mind the moment he began talking to shane, that jolt of realization that this will be the person, this will be the man who will be all that there is in times of isolated fears and shaky breaths. and he knows he's not an encumbrance to shane; he can spot that small, helpless smile shane does following that breathy laugh ryan lets out after a swallow of terror. and it's there because shane has done something, said something, been something. he's only been himself and himself is the serene lullaby hummed to soothe any tension.

and shane, god, shane just always manages to know how to handle ryan. it's almost as if his fingers were dipped in gold and every touch he leaves on ryan will linger and live. its alive. it's there and it's diffusing through ryan like a potion, flowing and flowing and running down his tensed muscles and assuaging Ryan's intensifying emotions because he always have felt too much, he always thinks too much and expresses it until he breaks. more like a book that's been pressed open too hard and the spine breaks in half, leaving him permanently exposed.

sometimes shane feels as if he's gifted with the magic to water down ryan's precarious mental health, primarily during the filming of the supernatural episodes. because ryan will hear a strange unexplainable noise —although, shane will no doubt find it explainable, something along the lines of the wind or old wooden walls or floors— and he'll turn to shane immediately, he'll look at his calmed face with those horrified eyes and deep gulping of breaths and ask him if he heard it and await for shane's reasonable thoughts on it. it's become a habit for ryan, shane notices, but to him it's always a wonder. how ryan will always eventually turn to him like shane's a wall he needed to lean on to catch his breath. and shane loves it when he does that, that ryan now always look to him in moments of grasping despair. it is as previously thought; that shane is gifted to anchor ryan.

and perhaps, he's gifted just for ryan.

 

_____


	3. sanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> and that maybe, ryan's gifted just for shane too.

"we have to get to the airport early morning, okay? no delays," tj reiterates and swings his duffle bag over his shoulder with no difficulty despite holding heavy equipments inside. he waves at them as he leaves the room and shuts the door gently and cautiously, as if the room was weak and trembling from age.

ryan has at some point lost that terror he'd retrieved when the spirit box mentioned his name twice, but yet he swallows dreadfully as he lay on the bed. shane soon follows suit and plops down to his side, already facing him with a hand acting as a pillow for his head.

"you okay?" shane asks carefully.

ryan closes his eyes and knew it was unreasonable to be afraid after such a long time. usually his shakened heart would last a couple of hours after said events but tonight it did more than that. he doesn't really know why. the location was as similar to any other locations they've done yet it seemed to grip him harder and stronger.

he clenches his jaws and relaxes them. "yeah, im fine. i just—im just thinking about..."

"that spirit box?"

"yeah, yeah, it's uh...it's stupid, whatever. forget it, man."

but shane didn't make it feel stupid albeit his opposing beliefs. he only reached down and grabbed ryan's hand, playing with his fingers before he slips his own in between, wondrously eyeing how fitting their hands were with each other. shane was looking at their hands but ryan stared at his profile, that tired face with its droopy eyes and comical smile. he remembers thinking how cartoonish shane's face was when he first met him, never really finding him attractive yet here he is, a step ready to be molten from how much he earns for shane's affection and devotion.

ryan's forgotten his moment of fear and he's now enveloped in this bubble of aching. he's aching and wishing and wanting all of shane, all of him, more than his hands that are now stroking his palm so lovingly and tenderly. shane seemed to notice that strong radiation of want from ryan and turns his head, frowns and says, "hey. hey wh—"

but ryan doesn't bother letting him finish his sentence. he shifts and pulls his hand away to cradle shane's waist, pulling him closer to his own body and leaning in to run his lips on his. he felt shane parting his lips as soon as he leaned down and that only initiated a more hungry response from ryan, not in a way where he's turned on, but in a way where he just wants to feel shane's heart and put in it a box and never open it.

unlike the first few nights after their confession for each other where it'd mostly involved quiet moans and searching hands, lately they've only been like this; just touching and staring and holding. as if one of them was about to lose one of his senses and he wants to soak up all that he can from the other man, to keep it vivd and lucid in his memory. ryan sighs into shane's moving lips, bringing his hands up to hold his hollow cheeks and pulls his face towards him so he can feel his lips better and he can slightly lick them to just magnetise a throaty reply from shane.

ryan felt like melting. in fact, he was. he was melted against shane's body with his legs on either side and hands cradling his face. ryan's fingers unknowingly slips to the back of shane's head and practically lifts his head off the bed, pulling him up and up as he kisses those lips and opens them wider, making a grand entrance for his tongue to slip in. it became a rush of movements, a blur of emotions. they're only feeling each other, pulling at each other and tasting what's been offered and perhaps what's not offered as well. ryan takes in whatever shane's having and vice versa. it's only their lips and their hands. it's only shane's long fingers gripping ryan's waist and holding him intact but still loose, just enough for ryan to hold him closer and tighter and exposed to his hands.

they pull away briefly, lips swelling and foreheads glued. their eyes were shut but they didn't need to see the other's face to know what's been felt. it's right there in their skins, sweating out their emotions and absorbed by another.

"shane," ryan whispers, always surprised by how breathless he can be. "i love you."

shane lightly chuckles at his breathy confession. he lets go of ryan's waist and drags his fingers up his arm, sloping down to his neck and trailing his throat. his fingers tingle under the movement of ryan swallowing, and it trembles under the silky skin. he stops at ryan's full lips, finding it part naturally. dark brown eyes watch him marvel at his lips, at his strong tight jaw and the tease of a stubble. the sight of ryan on him, holding his head like he's a new born child simply inundates shane, it's so worldly, so perfect and it's just right there.

"i love you too," shane says feebly. "if you're scared, im here. you know that, right?"

of course ryan does. shane didn't need to hint at it even. he's known it from those small touches and worried gazes, usually layered by a wicked grin and stupid jokes. sometimes, ryan wonders if only he can see it. sure, the internet has long ago known it but he wonders if they notice that shane not only loves him, he'd just be intrinsic to ryan. wherever ryan is, he'll be there. he'll try if he isn't. he'll die if he couldn't. it's what shane has become, or has always been; to be ryan's sanity.

it's not as if ryan has mental issues, it just seemed as if he's always not in his right mind without shane around. sitting at his desk with his headphones wrapped around his head, ryan would look to his right and always expect to see shane slouched over his computer and tapping away on his keyboard, left hand hovering over his coffee mug, eyes straining at the screen until he can't take it anymore and just leans back into his rolling chair. he'd look at ryan then, smile if ryan's looking, smile if he isn't anyway. sometimes shane would rest his head on the desk with an elbow beneath, facing ryan. he'd blink probably less than ten times in a minute from how entrancing ryan's profile is. he'd sometimes reach under the desk and draw shapeless images on ryan's knee, feel it relax and succumb to his touch. it's beautiful, in a way. so innocent and giving.

ryan eventually answers shane by pressing his lips on his forehead, long and steady. he'd then kiss the bridge of his nose and his lips once, unmoving, just the feel of a pair of lip on another pair. then he'd let go of shane's face and enfold his torso where his fingers interlock at the back, to not let go of him under any circumstances. shane notices the messages behind ryan's touches, he always does. and perhaps this is why he also sometimes think that ryan's gifted as well, to speak and express everything with only his hand and his eyes.

and that maybe, ryan's gifted just for shane too.

_____

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> do leave kudos :))))


	4. tipped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> under the loud platters of rain against the metal body of the car, the dark skies with its deafening thunders and stark lightnings, the beepings of impatient and confused and worried drivers, the silence of the needed and the heavy breathing of the desperation; the ruler tips.

ryan has noticed the transition between whom he was before he met shane, and after. that transition enhanced especially after he's been allowed to have shane openly, to touch him and kiss him and love him openly. it's a transition he dreads, a change he's always feared and never gone through with his past relationships and somehow thought he was immune to It. but no one can be immune to anything. eventually they'd discover a weak point that could threaten all that they ever thought wouldn't be threatened.

after seasons and episodes of filming, his and shane's chemistry never faltered. they'd always find it easy to just be beside each other, and it always felt safe to just sit and find the other beside them, to know that they'll be doing with the only company that works. and ryan loves it, he cherishes it so much his heart aches and his mine throbs whenever he leaves work to enter his very much quiet apartment. of course, he sometimes spends the night at shane's but it can't be always. it can't be every night, as if they're living together. living together. a thought that alarmingly ignites fear into ryan. it wasn't that he didn't want shane, he was afraid he'd never be able to live without it afterwards. he was afraid that he can never tighten up his screws again if something were to ever happen to their relationship, to shane.

he was afraid that he'd be too dependant on shane for stabilising him that if he just spends two minutes without him beside, he can feel his body curling in panic. he knew it isn't healthy like that. he knew that one day shane will find it tiring to just be there every second and he's afraid of what he would do if that day comes, with his hands to weak to reach every gaping hole in his body to plug it in.

and it finally enveloped ryan like a shadow, blinding him on that day, that seemingly normal tuesday with rain showering moderately and everyone quietly sipping their coffees or teas and clicking away at their desktop, spouting ideas to each other or muttering angrily at the phones; ryan was one of them too with his head stuck at the screen of his laptop, searching and analysing articles based on psychology and if it was normal to feel such a way towards someone he loves.

meanwhile, shane had stumbled in with his shoulders wet and sticking to his skin, his glasses hanging from curve of his shirt blurred with droplets of rain that he hasn't yet bothered to wipe away. he got stuck in the traffic when the rain started and cursed himself for always forgetting to keep a spare umbrella in the car. as if the day couldn't get any worse, he arrived at the building with no vacant basement parking or any parking with coverage and had to walk under the rain, hand uselessly covering the top of his head while the other held his bag under his armpit to prevent it from being fully wet. he had actually considered getting into work later but then he remembered ryan; ryan with his snarky comments and sasquatch jokes, his sudden change of mood lately and dulled words. shane had thought about it alot and wondered if this was the beginning of something very, very dreadful.

upon climbing the stairs and opening the glass doors to the office, he realized he'd left a heavy trail of water behind him. someone would point that out soon, shane thought with frustration coating it, and especially if he sat at his desk and wetted the electronics. before turning around to head for the washroom, he looks to his right and spots ryan at his desk, so concentrated at the screen he didn't even look up despite shane waving. he immediately felt embarrassed and decided to just head to washroom and dry himself with that hand dryer.

it took him approximately twelve minutes to just deem himself adequately dried, all the while ignoring the questioning looks from his colleagues at his bended posture towards that machine, shirt stretched under it and tediously waiting for the sensor to pick him up.

when he reached his desk, he dumps his bag at his chair and puts on his glasses to see what ryan's is so into that he hasn't even realized the hovering presence beside.

until shane says, "what's so interesting and compelling on that screen, ryan, to the point you didn't even notice me coming."

he was able to catch the word 'normal signs...' in the search tab on ryan's screen before he slams shut his laptop, startled and turning around to look up at shane.

shane frowns and holds his hands out as if a wild animal is cut loose before him. "woah there, man. is everything okay?" he asked even when it was obvious the answer is no, as a matter of fact, the answer has been no for the last few days.

ryan clenches his jaw, looking distraught and antsy. "of course, why wouldn't it be," he muttered.

"then why the..." shane waves his hand vaguely at the closed laptop.

the man breathes in deep through his nose, gripping the desk before letting it go to play with the hem of his shirt. shane wanted to make those fingers relax, he wanted to interlock their hands together and stroke his palm until the knuckles return to the normal colour instead of the startling white. he wanted to make sure ryan slouch in his seat rather than all tensed up, sitting at the edge as he fiddles around aimlessly. but somehow he feels that he can't, that ryan wants to be tensed up for now. and he hates that he's helpless and unaware of the reasons for it.

"it's just some case ideas for the upcoming true crime season. you know i don't show you any of it until the shooting itself," he replies monotonouslyand shane senses that he's had that prepared beforehand, considering he never shut his laptop in that way before, even in similar situations. he's obviously hiding something but shane holds himself back, just enough and openly. he sits down at his chair after dragging his bag to his lap, facing ryan anxiously.

"ryan..." shane begins. "i noticed...lately—"

"i know," ryan cuts in. "i've been out of it lately. you don't have to mention it."

"and i haven't mentioned it at all. i know you'd needed your space—"

"and i still do."

"would you please stop interrupting me?"

ryan sighs and hangs his head low, hands letting go of his crumpled shirt and sliding to the back of his neck. ryan's expected this. eventually, shane would want to know, would ask. and he doesn't think he will ever be ready to answer properly.

"shane, not now."

shane ignores the sudden hurt that torched within him, tried to fight it and press more because now he wanted to know; he didn't want this to carry on any further. it could blacken whatever good thing is going on at the surface, the beneath rising and rising until it plops up and expose to the world what's been hidden, what's been unwanted and threatening. shane knew even ryan didn't want to do anything that could taint unsolved and he has a little faith that talking it out with him could help this...situation.

"then when? you leave work much earlier than i do, you don't come over anymore and—"

"not now, please."

"jesus, would you let me speak?" shane's voice quivered and cracks and ryan finally looks up to find his eyes, finally realising that shane is serious and he wants to do it now. but he's not giving in, not with the way he just suddenly stands up and his chair rolls back, hands shaky and unstable as he grabs his coffee mug and turns around.

"im going to get more coffee. just...don't follow," he whispers the last words and walks away. it leaves shane drained and he swallows such a painful lump that just chokes him a little. he didn't like this path, he didn't like the detour their relationship has taken. it's bad and exhausting and frustrating, and shane, for once, doesn't actually know what to do with ryan. he's afraid of what ryan can do to him. that man can tell him those few words he fears is the inevitable to many, many relationships and it can put an end to everything; their friendship, their show, their lifestyle. he's too comfortable now.

no one around has noticed their brief exchange and shane sighs of relief at that. if someone asks him about it and he doesn't have an answer, he feels that'll stir up precarious concerns.

ryan, meanwhile, opens the canteen door to find steven lim seated at the white ikea table, a sandwich that smelt of ham in one hand and his phone in the other. he's mindlessly taking bites of his sandwich as he scrolls through his phone, frowning and entranced by what he's seeing.

but he then looks up at the sound of a door clicking shut, finding ryan standing against it with a coffee mug in his hand. he's not surprised at all. ryan, amongst the other buzzfeed employees on this floor, is a regular at this canteen with his obsession over caffeine. however, steven notices ryan's distress and was about to say something about it. but he closes his mouth shut when ryan walks past him to the coffee machine behind, immediately filling it up without other intentions in mind. all he wanted was for shane to stay seated at his desk, not follow him where confrontation is bound to happen.

"don't you think that's enough coffee, dude? it's barely eleven," steven points out casually.

ryan wanted to scoff and thinks, 'says the person who made an episode entirely based on coffee' but glues his lips together. they were quite close and ryan's made jokes related to worth it but at his current state, with his tone, he knew steven wouldn't find it humorous at all.

he presses the button and stops the flow of coffee once it's adequately filled his mug. he contemplated adding cream but his sour mood begged not to, that it'll taste awful on his tongue. another minute, ryan adds anyway, knowing that it's all just in his head. if he wants this issue to stop clouding his mind, adding whip cream when he thinks isn't best to can be a start.

then he thinks of shane, his habit of adding just too much sugar and the way his mouth taste sweet and soft when ryan kisses him soon after he drinks his coffee. he can't endure another minute without the feel of it again but his mind is screaming at him, pleading that if he gives in he'll never leave, he'll never know what it is to just be himself again without shane beside him. he knew he'd lost himself the minute shane agreed to do unsolved, and he was a goner, puffed out of existence when shane told him he loves him.

he suddenly can't breathe and his grip on the mug handle loosens until it slips from his fingers and lands on the counter loud and heavy, clattering and dancing from side to side as it figures out its center of gravity. coffee slushes in it and spills onto the white counter, staining it. the brown liquid was stark amidst the white and ryan stares at it, his head hung between his shoulders as his hands grip either sides. he's so scared he'll never come back. he's so scared he might end up with the ghosts he's so desperately been searching for and always linger around shane, stuck in a loop, haunting him till the end of shane's days. ryan has never felt this way with his other relationships, never at all. he's always had control of himself with them but with shane, he just can't live without him. there's no sight of his future with shane in absence. he finds shane when he's watching basketball reruns at midnight and shane will beside him with his laptop writing the hot daga, when he's shuffling through his fridge for a late night snack and shane's teasing him about the pointless aspect of going to the gym when he's up and about at 2 am eating, when he's scrolling through his twitter in bed from being unable to sleep and shane's face is hidden in his neck beside him, breathing him in, whispering lovingly into his skin; just plain, mundane things that somehow slips shane into the image. and now ryan can't do those things without thinking of shane and he's alarmed and afraid of how gone he really is now.

steven stands up startled and just stares at ryan's back, his black t-shirt gliding on his skin as the man breathes in deep and loud and his muscles can't help but move along, all of his muscles, just swimming and contracting under the instability of ryan's breathing. he wanted to reach out and stop those muscles from contracting unhealthily but he had a feeling ryan will turn around green and fuming; he had a mental image of a hulk and was slightly cursing himself for thinking such.

he clears his throat, perturbed. "but if you need that coffee real bad, no one's stopping you."

then he reluctantly holds his hand out to squeeze ryan's shoulder, swallowed when he felt how tense it really is. many plausible reasons run through his head as he looks at ryan and half of them consist of shane. no one can affect ryan like this other than shane, or his family but throughout his time—and that's a long, long time—knowing ryan there's never been family issues. which only leaves him to shane. he decided to butt himself out of this and clears his throat once more. he grabs his sandwich and walks out, opening and shutting the door so gently and quietly.

ryan can feel the tears coming in like a tsunami. but the moment it reaches his eyes and is on the edge of falling, he wipes it away. he grabs a rag from the sink and wipes the spilled coffee debilitatedly. but his hands stop swiping when he hears the door opens once more, this time with familiar footsteps. such light, graceful footsteps with the clicking of his boots. ryan could even smell his lemon shower soap from here and he just knew, he even expected shane to follow. as much as he didn't want to give in, his feeble attempt to figure it out alone, he wanted shane to follow. that selfish, stupid part of him wanted shane to go against his word and follow him anyways.

"i thought i told you not to follow," ryan grumbles and throws the wet rag into the sink. he flips open the tap and washes it, the faded brown liquid leaving the cloth and running down the drain. he closes the tab and hangs the rag, hearing the quiet presence behind him hesitate anxiously.

shane ends up laughing lightly. "when have i ever listened to you?"

he'd have laughed too, he'd have turned around and grinned at him and joke about his skepticism. but he doesn't. he couldn't find any spirit left in him.

"i wished you did," he mumbled.

shane frowns and steps a little closer, noticed the sticky surface on the counter where ryan hadn't wiped properly with the rag.

"what's going on, ryan, you can't even—" shane takes in a breath, suffocating. "you're not even looking at me. you're not—you've even spilled coffee all over yourself. what's...i..." he felt humiliated by how his words just stick up in multiple directions. he just doesn't know where to begin. it hurts too much.

but ryan doesn't say anything. neither does he turn around to look at shane in the eye. he kept his head down as he grabs his mug and brings out the chair steven had previously occupied. he plops down, sliding the coffee to the table, unable to find anything to say. not like he did anyways. not like he would ever.

"ryan, buddy," shane starts. he seriously wished there was another chair but buzzfeed had to be darn cheap and got only one. he just stands up, crossing his arms, frowning down at the man before him. "i don't understand anything. is unsolved stressing you out? are you not, uh, satisfied with how the season is going so far?"

ryan laughs but it's not the laugh shane's been trying to get out. "the stress over 'unsolved' is all-time. it comes with the job. that's the downfall of working for buzzfeed."

shane doesn't bother hiding his exasperation. "then what is it? have i...have i done something—said something? why aren't you telling me anything?"

"shane, stop. im telling you, not now."

there's a moment of silence that screams disbelief. "unbelievable," shane shakes his head, incredulous.

ryan sighs and stays quiet. it is unbelievable. he's unbelievable. everything that's happening appears to be so unbelievable it's causing his mind to throb. how could he ever make it clear to shane that it was all because he doesn't know where the line is and somehow kept walking and walking until he's too far gone?

they're both silent now. their breathing is muted as well. it's the only the rain that's speaking, pattering against the window and is growing heavier and stronger after each second. the sink drips water as a result of the tap being closed carelessly and loosely. and shane develops pain in his chest when he just gets it in his head that ryan just won't tell him anything at all and there's no space for him to hope that he will.

"just tell me this: is it me?"

shane's desperation seemed to get to ryan who finally stops playing with the mug that now holds luke warm coffee. he freezes for a split second as if he hadn't expected that at all and says, "no. it's not you."

and shane hates that it isn't him, somehow. he hates that now he's uttering the words with heart pounding so loud and rapidly, "then is it you? do you not...do you not love me anymore?"  he also hates how the last three words just came out so fearful and weak. that's all he's become just as the thought came up in his head; frail, helpless.

those words just catches ryan off guard. so much that the words climb up his throat and pauses midway, leaving him breathless and lips parted with the slightest bit of air coming out. how, he thinks, does that even occur to shane? but he couldn't speak, not when he's on the verge of tears from how hurt shane must feel to consider such idea. not when he's just so tired of it all he wants to scream it out to shane, he wants to tell him all of it but there's no possible way he can phrase it in words that doesn't indicate anything that can lead to an end of their relationship.

ryan's silence shatters all that shane is made of. it's rendering him darts and bullets that he'll throw at his own stupid heart and mind until he's just debris waiting to be swiped away, away into the pile of junk in the middle of nowhere. he wants to touch that part of his chest that's swelling until he's sure the pale skin there reddens, he wishes to press it so hard that he might eventually break his bones and dip his fingers and touch that useless beating heart.

shane finds himself laughing bitterly, "don't i just know it. ryan bergara, finally falls out of love with the tall, lanky idiot who writes about hot dogs talking and taunts ghosts and anything he believes in. about time then, don't you think."

ryan finally, just finally, looks up at shane, seething. "hey fuck you, man. i never said i didn't love you anymore. i don't just fucking fall in and out of love like a plug."

shane shakes his head again like he hadn't heard what the man has said. "this is full of shit. you, not telling me anything, just cow shit."

"see this is why i don't want to tell you anything! you jump to conclusions so fucking fast."

"well you're not giving me anything," shane raises his voice, trembling with anger and most of all, hurt. "what else can i do but conclude it myself?"

ryan looks down again, opening his mouth but only exhaling. he licks his lips from how dry it's getting and wants to sigh, to just breathe but it's too much. shane's looking at him like that, he's waiting and ryan knows he'll never stop waiting. that's what their dynamic have been like; just reaching and waiting and being. their friendship was knowing you'll never reach the ground when falling. it was all trust and laughs and harmony. their spontaneous bits when filming, the relief when checking into the hotel and finding one bed instead of two because then they could seek warmth and wake up to each other wrapped around together. even before ryan had decided he loved shane, and vice versa, he'd always known that he wouldn't be able to get this far without shane. brent was a good co-host but shane is there, he's present, he's responsive and mutual and never gives ryan the impression that 'unsolved' only mattered to him.

but that fear, god, that terror of losing his own mind.

ryan gives up, his hand descends on the table and he tries to not curl it up to a fist. "i can't."

the slumping of shane's shoulders were obvious. it felt like the whole room was drained and tired and slouched as well. he's in a state of incredulity, in a moment of hurt and anger. he wanted to know why ryan can't, if shane's just not enough for him. he didn't want ryan to suffer by himself but at this rate, it seems like he has no other option but to let that happen. shane then mutters, a clipping anger in his words, "you can't or you don't want to?"

ryan grits his teeth. "i can't. that's all that this is, shane. i just can't. and if you're going to just believe something else, that i don't fucking love you, then go ahead, big guy. everytime you jump to a conclusion, you never want to get back down."

"oh, so i'm at fault now," shane glares down. "you may be full of shit sometimes, bergara, but at this point you're just fooling yourself. putting the blame on me won't help with your little 'i can't tell you anything for reasons i can't tell you as well'."

that mocking tone seemed to put ryan off and he's now standing abruptly, pulling his mug and dumping the coffee into the sink. he knows he's wasting good coffee but right now nothing's what he wants.

"if you're going to bring up my belief in ghosts and aliens, then it's best if you leave now."

shane grins but it's harsh and sharp and ryan can't help but flinch at it. "oh, i'm getting there. just you wait. you can't be the only one shooting guns here."

"shane, leave."

in response, he throws his hands up and sits down at the chair, making himself comfortable. "leave where? this is my workplace too, if you had forgotten. maybe you should have kept that in mind before telling me you love me and shit, before you asked me to join unsolved—"

"fuck you. you don't bring 'unsolved' into this."

"and why is that, hm? isn't that what started all this? you're slowly convincing me that maybe we shouldn't have started anything at all."

"i'm not convincing you shit, shane, and you know that very fucking well. you're being a grade a asshole right now all because i told you that i just can't tell you what's going on."

"and that's what hurts me!" shane jumps from the chair to tower over ryan, his face so torn and rough, his eyes a cracked screen with barely anything manifesting behind it other than anger. his finger digs into ryan's chest, pointing and accusing and guilt-tripping. "i love you, ryan. and i've always believed that you know that, that you're aware you can lean on me and entrust me with anything. and that's maybe the most compelling evidence of the fact that you love me too. but now? you can't tell me—even why? at least give a fucking peace to my conscience."

he leaves before ryan can say anything else. before that guarded look on his face will throw another dagger to his chest. he doesn't slam the door in case that brings uncalled attention but it's there: that hurtful indignation.

ryan wanted to drown in the coffee he's just drained. he wanted to leave this building without catching any attention or running into shane. he hates that he works here, where nothing seemed to give space for his head. he hates that shane will never believe him now.

now shane will be resentful and bitter and he's ruined unsolved. he's ruined everything he's built. and that breaks him a little bit more, causing him to walk back until he's leaning against the table. he just wanted to love shane and do unsolved without demolishing anything in the way and so far that worked; until he started to realize.

that night he was drinking the one week old beer from his fridge. it's lost its effect but he liked the taste on his tongue anyway, to know that he's got alcohol in his hands and he has a chance to maybe forget it all. and when he receives a phone call, he didn't bother to check the ringer and answers straight away, slurring a 'hello'.

it's the hospital, he can hear. they're asking for a ryan. he tells that it's him and they mention the name, shane madej. the fact that ryan's his emergency contact and that he's gotten into an accident about ten minutes ago.

ryan thought it was a joke from how fucking cliche and ironic it was for shane to get into an accident right after a fight and wanted to snicker but he can hear beepings in the background, doctors commanding and nurses shuffling. he can hear a breathing, faint and weak.

and he drops his beer.


	5. slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's always been balanced.

"hey, big guy," ryan mumbles, toying with shane's limped fingers. when he arrived he'd expected the worst, maybe broken bones but thankfully, all he'd found was bruises painted over shane's pale skin. it wasn't the best sight he'd seen of the man but thinking of worse possibilities, he'd openly accepted this. the bruises and wounds shane attained may heal faster than broken bones itself, and ryan definitely didn't want him to have to limp around in pain for a few weeks. so, bruises. that's okay.

it took him a couple of slap to his own cheeks as he took an uber here, trying to sober up and stay awake. sure, the beer was cheap and awfully ineffective but it still left him dazed and confused as he left his apartment. his fingers were shaking as they rushed to call an uber, half drunk and panicking. their post-fights never included either getting into accidents but it was raining today, heavily so as the sky darkened into night and it's what kills him so much. that today just had to doom them more. and as he reached here he could barely see what's on the road with the rain falling against the hood of the car and running down the windows continuously. sometimes he'd make up a race in his own head with droplets of rain down the window but this time there were too much for him to catch up with so he'd left it at that, unable to force himself to not think of the state shane would be in.

gosh, so cliche. so stupid and dumb. they just had to get into one of the most frustrating fights right before a man had to slip on the road and knock shane unconscious in his own car. it just had to happen tonight, when both of them were already struggling.

ryan tries to find something else to say as he stared at shane's face, that pale, slightly pink tinted cheeks. he wanted to touch his thick hair but his head had been bandaged as he'd gotten a a bad bump at the head against the steering wheel, glueing his hair against his forehead. ryan kept straining. he kept aching but never reaching. even as shane lay asleep, giving ryan all the space he needed to just hold him without his brain screaming at him, he couldn't do it to himself. he couldn't. he only held his hands, sometimes his fingers would slip down his wrist and feel that steady pulse rate and synchronise it with the heart rate monitor beeping beside him. he'd find solace in that, some calm. he'd remember that shane was only human and he's bound to get into accidents and he'd have to brace himself for it. and it dawns on him that second.

it just alarmingly dawns on him that if it does happen to shane again in later times he'd won't be able to survive. and he can't...christ, he can't live with that. shane became so vital and necessary to ryan that when his pulse stops, ryan's own pulse becomes muted in this world.

ryan closes his eyes tight and grips shane's hand until it's shaking under his hold. he's so scared. for both of them. he's so afraid of everything that would happen. he leans down until his head lays on shane's stomach, feeling his head rising and falling to the motion of the sleeping man's breathing. he's looking towards shane's face, only seeing his chin, granted, but looking anyways. he's staring at the freckles at his neck, the sides where he can still see faded hickeys he'd given him nights ago. jesus, ryan almost breaks apart right there and then, it felt so long ago. it felt like a millennium. he wanted to feel shane again and build a home once more within his skin but its getting too much now, it'll be harder to just give in when all along that's just what he's been doing.

ryan stays that way until he hears rapid footsteps coming his way. he gets up and straightens, finds the familiar face of shane's mother looking down at her son. her delicate face morphs into a twisted pained expression and he steps back for her to bend over the bed and grip shane. that was too real, ryan thought, too motherly and fearful. he turns to find shane's father coming into view and said his hello quietly, shaking his hand with a trembling effect that goes unnoticed. he leaves then, because he didn't want it to be more real than it already is. shane's family being there just makes the possibility of shane dying more prominent and highlighted.

it still rained heavily when he stepped outside and he almost staggers as he tries to walk under the harsh beating of rain. it was so heavy that he felt his skin sting under it, as if stones were being showered down. ryan then proceeded to call an uber once more, annoyed that he's wasting away change in his pocket just because he couldn't drive here. while waiting he goes to the hospital's gift store and buys an umbrella, that he's very much grateful to be there. after a little consideration, he purchases a post card with an image of a forest that looked so similar to the woods they explored in the bigfoot episode, wrote down at the back, 'get well soon, sasquatch. those limbs need to move again.' and almost, almost wrote 'i love you'.

he begins to worry as he stares at his words. they were too casual, too normal it felt as if they hadn't fought at all. that shane hadn't left with the belief of ryan not loving him anymore, and got into an accident with the same idea stuck in his head. it didn't feel right at all, to jump shane with a fucking post card as if they were friends who hadn't met in a while. as if shane's just another colleague who he's heard got sick. as if, yes, he doesn't love him anymore and wants to remain friends. that just seems to be the message in his words even when it isn't.

ryan leaves the store pissed off and tears the post card, throwing it out in the waste bin. he was too conflicted to think of anything right now. and reluctantly, he stepped into the uber car, wondering if maybe he should go up and stay the night with shane. maybe when he wakes up he'll find ryan asleep at his side. and he'll be convinced that ryan still loves him.

but ryan's mind. just. screams.

it strips away his sanity until he's just an empty platform, until he reached home all drained and hurt, until he falls down in the middle of his living room from knees giving in to fatigue and holding onto his coffee table, crying out that ache in his chest. he's too far gone. shane is everything in him now. and he'll never get himself back. he can feel his body killing off his old cells and growing newer ones, only this time on the pillars of shane's company. just shane, shane, shane.

he's a goner.

______

shane had been discharged early that morning, as well as given off a week of sick leave from work—which he feels a little too exaggerated considering he's just bruised up and haven't gotten any severe injuries at all. but to have extra few days off felt great, it was a huge lump of relief and he tries to not admit to himself that that relief came specifically from not having to see a certain person at buzzfeed.

his head still throbbed by the time he leaves the building, thankful that the rain had stopped yet the sun isn't out to glare down. he wasn't sure he could handle such brightness.

as he looks around the parking lot and taking in the wet roads and cars, he gulps, remembering the panic he'd felt as he noticed a car in front of him losing friction and slipping on the road, hearing loud screams from pedestrians nearby and the wind taunting, howling; how it scrambled his head so much he just sat there frozen with his hands on the steering wheel, watching the car screeching towards him until its all glasses shattering and flying around him, his body bopping everywhere until his head falls straight to the wheel and it all shuts off. he can still hear the trembling in his mind, that split second of saying 'shit, no, no, fuck, will i die, will i die' and a series of exclamation marks, followed by thoughts of ryan's face, ryan's silence to his question of his love.

he shuts his eyes tight from the sudden pang of pain inside his skull.

a hand squeezes his shoulder and shane startles, turning around and finding his father smiling at him. they'd come to visit him early at dawn, happy to find him awake and lively. except he wasn't, not really. not when he woke up and expected to find that face, that body next to him with that smile and eyes, only to just stare at the hospital walls laughing at him. and he felt too much of a coward to ask his parents if ryan had come. he didn't know what he'd do if they told him, 'no, he hadn't come. sorry, son.' what a wimp, shane thought sullenly. he couldn't even tolerate such reality.

"ready to go?" his father walks ahead, unlocking his car. his mother reaches him and grabs his arm, to which he catches those fingers tightening their hold on his flesh with each passing second. he didn't blame her; he did almost die.

"um, my car..." he quietly brings up once they're settled in and he's in the backseat, awkward and cramped up in the small space.

his mother answers, turning around a little to find his eyes. "oh, don't worry. we got that covered, honey."

"was it bad?"

she purses her lips, pondering. "yes, it was bad. there's a deep bend at the left, where the car was...hit. and—" she clears her throat. she looked like she was about to cry. the sight of her son's car in that terrible state and to imagine him inside that, probably in a worse condition was just too much she had to leave her husband with the mechanic and walk out. but she swallows down the memory and smiles at shane. "it's alright. it'll be fine."

"you know, i'm past thirty and make my own money. i could've handled it myself. you didn't have to—well, pay for anything."

his father then speaks up, looking at shane through the rear mirror. "and it's been years since we paid something for you. this is the least we can do, shane."

"you also paid my hospital bills," he points out.

"no, that was covered by the man that hit you."

shane frowns, completely forgetting about that significant point in this whole thing. "oh."

his father's face turns sour then. "he didn't get hurt at all. he felt guilty for his ass driving and paid for your bills. his name was...ah, what was it again, honey?"

"paul...i think."

then they started talking among themselves and shane's left with his own thoughts, his own despair. he tries to involve himself in their chattering but then he'd think back to the dinner ryan first attended with them, simply and innocently as a friend and a colleague. as interns, they completely understood each other and quickly sparked up a friendship, leaving shane to be his typical midwestern style and invite ryan to dinner that saturday. it was slightly awkward from how ryan didn't really know how to act, but it was also cute and tranquiling. shane would notice that ryan doesn't really try to flatter his parents to an unreasonable extent; he simply talked how he normally talks at work, complimenting his mother's cooking as the same way shane had heard him talk to his own mother on the phone sometimes. it made him warm, really, and he knew bringing ryan there was the beginning of something eternal and evergreen and real.

and shane suddenly feels dizzy. as he looks up from his lap, staring at the window and the road disappearing under the car, he's remembering last night. he keeps remembering last night and the last thing he saw. he can feel again the pain that shot through every part of his body, stabbed with glasses and the gear stick digging into his waist as he bended in the direction of the hit. shane's palms run sweaty and he wipes them against his jeans. he swallows and tries to not look up, to not face what he had been facing. _don't look, don't look. you're alright._

his mother asks him something but he doesn't hear it and he only hummed in response. his ears ring too loudly for his comfort and his face feels too cold to even contain blood in it. _it's okay. it's okay, you're not driving._

shane almost told his father to stop driving. his hands shook in his lap, and the headache he feels is like a repetition of that collision last night. startling and strong, taking his whole body to just fight it. then he thinks of ryan, of ryan's laugh and his insults. he remembers the nicknames ryan would call him with. _big guy_. _sasquatch_. _piece of shit_. and his heart slowly calms. he closes his eyes and tries to not focus on the movement of the car. each little bump and shakiness the road had to offer to the car made shane grip the seat a little hard, feeling panic that if those small bumps might turn into a stronger and larger one and they'd crash. _no, no. dad, stop driving._

he wished the drive ended soon. but in between his short breathing and sweaty skin, it lengthened much to his dismay due to a traffic. 

just when he's on the verge of throwing up, the car stops and he's out of it, looking up at the building, before back to his parent's worried faces through the rolled down window. "make sure to call if you need help."

he nods wordlessly, watching the car drive away before heading up the stairs slowly and painfully. his left arm slightly stung from the long cut trailing on his skin, and his wrist felt numb and strained. his body ached despite the cuts seeming mild. and add that up with his pulsating brain, he almost trips and falls down the stairs. fuck this building too, he cursed, for its unavailability of elevators and the fact that he had to live on the second floor.

in the midst of sullenness, he finds himself lost in thoughts until he's in front of the big number 2 sign, indicating his destination. he walks to his door, tiredly pulls out his keys and took several tries to insert the key into the door hole. it was messy, he smelled bad and the bandage around his head felt too tight and the hallway light was dull, encouraging his numerous attempts to unlock the door. eventually, though, it goes in and he immediately twists it to open the door.

it smelled different than what he remembered. he can catch a whiff of soup, possibly porridge, and fresh cat food. he walks in and stops short when he finds those shoes. those goddamn boots.

' _boot brothers, huh?_ ' he remembers ryan laughing at it that night.

' _it sounds odd. do you think it sounds odd?_ '

' _no, idiot. it's not odd. i like it. it's got a nice ring to it. besides the fact that it indicates we're bros. i mean—are we bros?'_

' _do bros love each other like we do?_ '

' _shane, that's incest. what the fuck_.'

' _it's not—wait, yeah, it is. shit.'_ and ryan's laughing again, loud and lovely. a sound that shane will never get out of his head.

he looks ahead and shuts the door behind him. his shoes come off unconsciously and he walks into his home with a heart that's palpitating, on the verge of reaching the top before falling back down with a splat. shane can hear his breathing. he can smell his jacket that smelled of woods and fresh after-rain scent.

and he sees him. squatting over obi's food and water bowl, frozen and still even when the cat stops eating and running to shane. he rubs his head excitedly over shane's calf and if shane weren't shocked to find ryan there, he would've bent down and petted his cat, asking him questions about his time alone. but it's not like that. not anymore.

the fact that finding ryan here became a surprise also hits him, highlighting the fact that ryan doesn't come over much anymore.

ryan eventually stands and turns around, craning his neck to look up at shane. his face falls and his eyes blur with tears, jaw tensed and fists tightening at the sides. his presence suddenly felt like a curse to shane when he remembers yesterday, that border ryan had placed between them with the simple concept of him not loving shane anymore.

and it just hurts inside. something's curling up and burning within his body. all his physical pain are nothing compared to what he's feeling inside; it's stinging and his ears ring loudly. he knew this is what heartbreak felt like but at this point, it's as if his whole body is breaking, not only his heart.

shane breathes heavily and he couldn't bear looking at the man before him. all his love that he's held for him turns against him to become anger, pain. it felt betraying.

ryan then stutters, "shane, i—"

"you weren't there," he says rancorously. 

the man before him frowns. "what?" 

shane laughs and points at himself, at his dirty body plastered with bandages and wounds. "i woke up this morning, and you weren't there. you just stopped giving a fuck as well, didn't you?" 

"shane i was ther—" 

but he's shaking his head. "and i was imagining you in the car while i was suffocating, i had to _imagine_ you. can you believe—no, get out."

it stuns the little man and he's staring with dumbfounded eyes. "i—what?"

"get out, ryan."

"shane, the fuck are you saying?"

"i want you to leave. isn't that clear enough? do you want me to sing it to you?" shane narrows his eyes, past beyond the moment of pain. now it's anger. now it's just flames. "i've got pretty good vocals, that's what the fans say. shall i sing?"

"no! no, wh—i..."

"so, you've cooked me something and fed my cat. thank you. now, you go."

ryan seemed small that second. that's what shane thinks. and he thinks that maybe if he wraps his arms around him, he'll completely be entrapped within him like sushi. shane can also see those lips chapped and quivering, and he almost runs to the kitchen to grab water and make ryan drink it. he looked starved and dry, like hard bread. his hair looked like that time they did a video on not washing your hair, and he does look smaller. more fragile. shane wanted to cover him up with a bubble wrap and gently put him in a box.

he thought he looked worse than he himself and his anger turns around into pain again. 

ryan seemed stuck. he looked as if he wasn't sure if he should be stubborn or walk away. and shane hoped it wasn't the latter, despite his expressions saying otherwise. he hoped ryan would say 'fuck you' to him and kiss him right there and then and shane would forgive him, he'd allow ryan to bottle things up for as long as he'd want to until he's ready to tell shane. he'd succumb to it all.

but ryan doesn't. it's the latter. he walks closer to shane and stops, his body heat now beaming. he just stands there, his eyes on the floor, almost appearing as if he wants to reach out and touch shane. but he doesn't. ryan doesn't. he resonates to walking past him and their shoulders don't even brush against each other. shane doesn't turn around but can hear him slip on his boots and press down the door knob, the door creaking open and his body shuffling as it heads outside. shane looks down at his feet and finds a drop of water on the floor, and he looks at where ryan was standing, noticing a droplet as well.

he'd been crying and he didn't even notice.

that one week off sounded perfect for him.

______

"so, i was thinking...maybe i bake him cookies?" sara ponders, her head tilting. ryan sighs. she's been like this for two days now when everyone's already sent shane something and she hasn't, and she's begging ryan to give her ideas. truth is, everyone thinks ryan has been personally sending shane those get well soon gifts when really, he just used his brother to do so. no one knew anything, suspected anything even. he's done so well with hiding it that sometimes, in conversations, he'd lie and tell them a joke that he claims shane had said just to make it seem normal. it was pathetic and miserable and he knows that soon he can't take it in anymore.

"sara, you can't bake shit. you only eat those raw doughs and buy packed ones."

"helloo? there's something called online recipe? and i can always ask for rie's help. she's sweet," sara argues and starts clicking her pen again. it annoys ryan to the moon and back but she finds it a gesture to calm her panicking thoughts, so ryan ignores it. he's learned to ignore it anyways.

"rie's busy. steven managed to convince her to join him on some episodes they going to do in asia," ryan knew what a lucky asshole he was, to be able to travel outside of europe, let alone america. "but, maybe she'll have some free time."

sara gleams under the low hanging lamp above them. "fuck yes. she has to be free. steven can't be the only one who gets her." ryan frowns at that, hearing it in the wrong way. 

"you could also just watch those tasty videos. that's what they're made for."

she wiggles her finger in his face. "better directly to the woman herself. andrew said that she gives off such a nice vibe during his bread videos that he almost quit buzzfeed to become a baker."

"you speak as if you've never met her."

"oh, you know," she waves her hands. then she stays quiet, thinking again, her wide eyes narrowed and focused on the table. she's so caged within her thoughts that ryan taps his fingers to get her back to the world and she stays still. until she sighs. "but do you think shane will like cookies?"

"sara," he groans.

______

it became so hollow. a nightmare. ryan can barely get his head in the game.

four days since he saw shane, since that man told him to get out and spoke as if he never wanted to see ryan again. four days and ryan can barely breathe. it chokes him when he's drinking coffee, suffocates him when he tries to get fresh air after a long meeting and his cheeks sag and hurts after fake smiling at everyone continuously.

when he agreed to do a random video on spending money or some shit just to kill time as there's no filming for unsolved to be done, it's torture. usually in these videos he'd be paired with shane and he'll feel safe, almost as if a kid is trying something new and his parents will be beside him to have his back. but shane isn't here. and ryan's going insane.

at one point, the crew notices ryan's pale complexion and asks him if he wants to continue. they're outside and the weather feels great but ryan's body begs to differ. he can't think straight without shane's habitual jokes and his loud, always startled laughs, his quiet comforting murmurs and just...just simply him. ryan feels guilty and embarrassed that he's in this state, especially after willingly agreeing to do the video. so he says that he's fine, he's okay, he's not sick, and he'd go on.

he laughs and he's smiling, he's joking and he's insulting; all what ryan steven bergara does lately. and does he cry? no, he doesn't. at least, not in a way where tears fall. really, he just silently sobs in his room at times. the instability inside him is rattling his mentality and he keeps sobbing and breathing heavily that his neighbours might think someone's literally dying.

and he is, in a way. his cells can no longer withstand shane's absence that they just slowly give up the idea of undergoing mitosis. and his body is drained. it's internally draining him and perhaps it's beginning to show outside. he feels like a corpse; really, really cold even with he duvets around him. he knows this isn't healthy and he knows this is what happens when shane's away. he just loses every little sanity. it clips away like petals of a wilting flower and sometimes he'd scream into his pillows from the building frustration.

it's gone, it's gone, shane is gone. shane doesn't want him anymore. shane will be gone. when he comes back in three days, he'll tell ryan that he'd want to leave unsolved, just like brent. just like fucking brent. and this time, ryan won't try to hold on anymore and try solvingit. he'll just let go.

it's late at night, close to one am when ryan wakes up with tears running down his temple and slipping into his ears, tickling him in the process. he didn't dream of anything in particular but somehow, he's still crying. is that possible?

he looks to his side, at the empty pillow that's now fluffed up and no trace of shane ever lying there remaining. he hopes to at least find a strand of shane's hair but there's nothing there. it's been too long.

and shane wouldn't be there again.

ryan doesn't know what he's doing when he grabs his phone and dials shane's number. when he presses it to his ear and waits as the ringing continues. but it leads to a voicemail, it leads to a fucking dead end and ryan almost throws the phone across the room. he shakingly pulls the phone away and ends the call, looks at shane's name and his photo from the knott's berry farm. his sunglasses were on the tip of his nose and his hat was off, he's looking at the camera all slurry, an awful seducing look yet ryan's managed to love it.

he calls his dad instead.

it takes a while and ryan was bracing himself for that stupid voice to tell him, indirectly, that his call won't be answered and that he's a loser. but the ringing stops and he's greeted with a breathing . "ryan?"

ryan swallows tightly. "hey dad. i—uh, i woke you up, didn't i?"

"actually, i was working."

"oh? it's one am."

his dad laughs quietly. "i know. just looking through this patient's files. his teeth is god awful. it's more than just some decay."

ryan returns the laugh, albeit weakly. "mm yeah. i remember when my teeth was that bad too."

"oh, yours were an exception. i thought you were a hybrid of a boy and a mole-rat."

"dad!"

"it's true. not taking that back," he chuckles. he waits for ryan to say something else but his son doesn't, and he instantly knows that it isn't just some random call at one am.

"what's wrong, ryan?" he asks, worried and scared.

ryan would tell him. he's come so far without saying it to anyone and he's about to explode. he's about to combust like mary reeser. and it's his father. he's never gone through his life without confessing at least something to his father.

he begins by saying, "shane got into an accident."

as ryan's father hears the name shane, he sighs and knows that of course his son would call him at a time like this for that man. "yes, your mother told me. we wanted to call you but thought that maybe you're busy with the new season and all. he's not in a critical condition, is he?"

"no, no," ryan quickly says. "he's...well, he's fine. i think."

"you think?"

ryan doesn't respond. his eyes are shut and his hand is aching so he just places the phone on the pillow beside him and puts it on speaker. he hugs himself then, curling towards the voice of his father.

"ryan..."

"i feel like dying, dad," he croaks out and immediately the tears fall. it's running down his nose and creating a puddle on his sheets but he doesn't think about that. he's just feeling all sorts of pain. "i can't...he's too—he..."

his father remains silent and patiently waits, all the while stunned to hear such a crack in ryan's voice.

ryan breathes in, trying to compose himself but it backfires. more tears fall and his lips taste salty. "he thinks i don't love him. he...he told me to get out, when i came over after his accident. and i—it's my fault, dad. it's...i love him still. fuck, i'm dying without him. when he's not around i can't feel myself. and it scares me so much i don't know myself anymore. i don't know who i am without him."

"and he thinks you don't love him because—"

"because i pushed him away. i couldn't tell him that i literally can't live without him and just distanced myself from him. until he got the impression that i don't love him anymore."

"have you told him that you do love him?"

"he's not convinced. he's...he has all the—the rights to think so because i'm such a fucking idiot. and i'm scared this isn't healthy. this—this not being able to live without him. i—is it healthy, dad? to feel this?"

quiet on the other line. just quietness. 

until ryan hears him speak again. "no, it isn't. but you can make it healthy," his father says, confident and loud.

and ryan feels it just shatter in him. he doesn't know what, but it is. to hear from another voice that yes, it isn't healthy, only sharpens the blade. it's squirming and anchoring whatever hope he had in him that maybe it's all just in his head. "how? how can i make it healthy?" he asks warily.

when his father doesn't respond, he pleads, "dad. please. how can i make it healthy? it—it hurts. i don't know why it hurts so much but it does. i don't ever want to feel this everytime he's away and now it seems as if he's going to be away for quite a while i—please. jesus, dad."

"you need to understand that he's all you got and he will be," his father cuts. "he loves you, ryan, and he won't leave you. i just...i know so. and you can lean on him even if you think that you shouldn't." he pauses. "this is love. you're loving. this is what loving someone feels like. and the further you get into your relationship, you'll be stable and you'll find that yourself is within him and you'll be able to breathe without him. i don't think you trust him, ryan. that you think he might leave and you're afraid. you need to trust him, and that'll give you peace even when he's not around.

it can be healthy, son, in a way where you love him until he won't be able to let you go. don't...don't break yourself apart over this. you're stronger than that. i need you to breathe and tell him properly."

and at some point, ryan stopped crying and his father endearingly tells him to go to sleep.

"i love you, dad," he says softly. his father doesn't hang up like he expects him to and instead hums a little lullaby from when he was seven, and ryan falls asleep. he smiles in it.

____

shane's throwing a small yellow ball at obi, amused by how his cat jumps up to catch it. he's energetic and playful, one of the moods shane has come to love so much besides affectionate. obi is many things, and most of it is loving. but then there's those moods where obi would literally scratch and bite shane if he tries to just come nearby and about ten minutes ago, that was obi.

so, for him to be this playful is a big relief to shane.

it's also a great distraction for him to not think about getting back to work in just two days, and how he'll have to see ryan again. he finds himself frowning at the thought. it wasn't like he didn't want to see ryan, fuck, he literally does and he might be running a little wild and unorganized in his head from how it isn't. five days ago, seeing ryan right after believing that maybe he doesn't love him anymore was too raw and sour that he didn't even think before telling him to leave. of course he doesn't want him to leave. how could he ever? and that man left. that maybe just broke his heart a little more.

the last five days just involved dealing with his car's mechanic, arguing on the phone that no, he won't change the engine, the old broken one still works and is fine. as well as his parents calling in daily to check up on him. he doesn't tell them about how he doesn't drive anywhere or even call a taxi or uber. he doesn't use any buses, any vehicles. he's afraid he'd go clammy again and panic internally. so instead he just walks and walks and avoid getting close to the road. 

at some point, his parents mention ryan. they mention that he looked torn up when they found him next to shane that night of the accident. and his mind splinters into lunacy, guilty. of course, ryan had been there. 

he's not distracted anymore and sighs frustratingly. he leans back and sits against the foot of his couch, watching obi play with the ball himself; just using his paw to push the ball a little before jumping on it and kicking it around like soccer. shane smiles at the sight but it's a tired one. all the gifts jake had brought to him from his coworkers were exhausting to arrange even when he felt great gratitude over them.

and to see jake there, instead of ryan simply tells him that ryan's listening to his words maybe a little more than he should've. he didn't mean for ryan to just completely leave his life.

"obi, how is it that you just give no shits to anything at all? can i be you? can i be a cat?" he rambles. "no, i feel that if i do become a cat i'd still stress over him. i always will."

his rambling comes to a stop where the door unlocks. he freezes, expecting a burglar. the only person who can unlock his door was...

shane stands and looks at the door, where ryan's closing it behind him and bending over to take off his shoes, which aren't the boots, shane noticed disappointingly. ryan then stands upright and finds shane looking at him, all curious and shocked.

shane looked alive, in ryan's eyes. his face wasn't as pale as five days ago and the cuts have faded. he's no longer sporting a bandage around his head and his hair falls readily against his scalp in all direction. he looked better than ryan, who's eyes are bloodshot and bags dark and prominent underneath. and at a point, ryan felt jealous that shane had to be the one who told him to get out and also look well and not at all affected.

ryan gulps down a lump and steps into the living room. he clears his throat, suddenly regretting this decision of just barging in. "i thought maybe if i knocked, you wouldn't let me in."

shane felt a cold air run down his throat and it dries. ryan looked bad, his whole body was just terrible. he looked worse than himself, and he felt slightly guilty that the colour in his skin is more vivid than in ryan's. the man appeared so drained and sunken.

as he speaks the words are rough, cracking. "how—why would you think that?"

"you didn't answer my call." it was bitter, his tone was harsh and hurtful.

"it was one in the morning, ryan. i was asleep."

"bullshit. you never sleep through any ringtone or alarms."

shane crosses his arms, suddenly defensive because he did wake up and he was so stunned to find ryan's name there that it got too late before he could answer. "and how are you confident that this time it was same? maybe i blacked out."

"you can't lie to me like that, shane."

he sighs, almost groaning. he didn't try to look at ryan in the eye, he couldn't. his knees would give out if he does; not when his own are full of guilt and ache. 

"why are you here, ryan? if you're checking up on obi, he's perfectly fine—you can see he's abnormally playing with that ball."

"of course i'm not here to check up on him, you noodle asshole."

"if you're going to start calling me names—"

"i'll call you whatever i want."

and shane almost smiles. ' _i'll paint you however i want._ ' he bites his lips to prevent that smile and looks down at ryan's fingers toying with the charms at his keys. it was cute, tempting. he urged to just hold that hand and play with those fingers.

"you'd...call me?" shane tries and he can see the recognition fly through ryan's head. the man suddenly smiles.

"yeah, you big baby. i'd call you."

and it's beautiful. whatever is roaming inside shane's chest is pleasant and he's almost crying out his relief that this will be okay, this will be fine. they'll be fine. 

"you love me," shane states, his heart just beating and beating and drumming nervously.

ryan scoffs. "no, i fucking hate you. i hate your guts, your stupid height. i hate all of you."

and shane grins. he's smiling with all of his body for the first time in five days and it's just everywhere; his feelings are going everywhere within him. he can hear relief jumping out of his skin as he finds ryan grinning back at him. it'll do. it'll work out.

ryan still loves him.

shane strides forward and ryan does as well, they meet halfway and its his chest that slightly hurts from the collision of ryan's head against it but it doesn't matter. not when his arms just completely wrap around ryan's body, his left hand at his waist, and the other around his head. he can feel his world turning again, the grass suddenly growing greener once more and the lighting in his room brightening. ryan's warmth and scent almost makes him cry, it just reminds him of the times his body aches for it.

and he feels wetness at his shirt. he frowns and looks down, finding ryan's lips quivering and his eyes swollen and red. he's gripping shane's shirt tight, grasping and pushing before shane just realises what's happening; he's breaking apart. shane pulls away and takes ryan's hand off his shirt, leading him to the couch where ryan just falls down and slouched on it. he tucks the little man under his arm, holding him close beside him. 

"tell me," shane only whispers, so cautious and caring that ryan shakes a little more and the tears race down.

"i...i don't know what to do," he thickly says, throat clogging with terror. "sometimes i feel like i've lost myself, shane. and i can only get myself back when i'm with you. i—jesus, as corny as it sounds, i can't be without you. i don't know how to live if you're not beside me. not anymore. my head's all...messed up and you're the only one who could just stabilise it. it's crazy, i know but—"

shane only stares, completely torn off of any thoughts as he hears those words. ryan, the man who he always thought had control over things, is here, telling him that he'd literally die if they're apart.

"and one day—fuck, if you're gone, what the fuck am i supposed to do? i don't even know myself, i don't know who i am anymore, what should i—"

"ryan," he calls out, eyes already puddled up. he's palming ryan's neck, pulling him to face him and hoping the man would stop crying because he's literally about to as well. "i won't leave. i won't be gone. you hear that? i won't leave. please, don't think that i will. how could i leave when i need you with me as well?"

and ryan looks at him, so broken and afraid. shane can see his body completely lost in the world, how it's just depending on shane to guide him. and he doesn't want that, he doesn't want ryan to just stand upon him; he wants the man to trust himself too.

"ryan, i love you, okay? and when everything in this world is—is fading away, i am here, beside you. can you...can you understand that? can—christ, you keep crying," shane laughs breathily, wiping them off ryan's cheeks. ryan laughs too, trying hard to just hold it in but eventually giving up.

shane sighs. "we'll take it slow. from here. we'll...we're going to do this normally, as other couples do. we're going to give each other space and live a life where it doesn't only include each other. i want you to find yourself back," he grips ryan a little tighter. "you're still yourself, ryan. i've just been in your space for too long and too frequent that eventually you can't find any space without me in it."

ryan nods, he's eager to do that. he's so grateful that shane hadn't taken it in the wrong way, that he hadn't thought that ryan wanted this relationship to end. he's so relived that he breathes out shakingly and nods again, this time against shane's chest as he wraps his arms around his waist once more. "okay. okay we'll do that. i'll find myself again."

shane closes his eyes serenely. to see ryan so terrorised until the point he pushed everyone away, until he appeared so cold in that canteen. shane couldn't bear the thought of ryan just holding it all within himself.

and to think he assumed ryan hadn't loved him and wasn't there in a moment where he was close to death, that he told him to leave his home when all the man had wanted was for the right glass to break and the right door to open. "i'm sorry i told you to get out. that was pretty shitty."

ryan laughs against his shirt, muffled. "yeah, it was. such a dickhead. i fed obi when he was starving and all i got was a 'get out'?"

"i said thank you!"

"which was followed by a 'now, you go'. who the fuck says that? you're like a fucking—old librarian or some shit?"

"that's an awful comparison."

"whatever."

shane pulls away a little and palms ryan's cheeks,  taking in his mahogany brown eyes and crazed hair. he brushes his fingers through it a little, watching it move like sand and settling down neatly. he's always loved the feel of it, the softness in his hair especially when it's not under the impression of any products.

ryan stares as shane combs his hair with full concentration. it felt oddly intimate and wholesome, it relaxed him to the bones and he sighs, giving up this whole restraining thing and just pulling shane down for him to kiss him. as always, despite shane's actions just abruptly stopping, his lips part right before ryan's lips meet them. and it's always what gives ryan a boost, how he's so aware and prepared and willing.

ryan's hands remain at the back of shane's neck but he's moving, he's now on his knees and shane's bending his neck as they kiss. it felt so full-filling, so satisfying as if filling an empty ice cube tray with water. ryan's feeling shane again after days and days of preventing himself to do so, and with a clearer head as he now knows that it's okay to maybe lose himself within shane a little since he'd find it again; he'd be able to find himself once more.

shane sucks in the air out of ryan's body, tugging him down by his head, just moving his lips in harmony to ryan's. ryan's lips, so full and soft and salty he just beams into the kiss. he can feel the heat running up and down his body, he felt the need just rush inside him like current. he's suddenly bringing ryan to his lap and holds him tight by his torso, perhaps slipping his fingers under his shirt to do so. but ryan doesn't notice, he's only turning his head to kiss shane at a better angle; he seemed to just want to kiss him forever and hey, no one's really complaining. despite shane's body aching to feel more of ryan, he only kisses him. he only lets those lips run away for a while to take in air before colliding with his again. he's only giving what ryan wants who always takes it willingly.

"jesus, your lips taste like salt," shane mumbles against ryan's lips. 

the man laughs. "i was crying, shane. what do you expect?" 

 _nothing, i love it._ shane pulls him down and press their lips again. it was swirling inside his mind like a van gogh painting. it was vivid and colourful he felt his mind just perform a tornado of emotions inside. he wonders if you can get drunk off a kiss. 

ryan pulls away with groan. his head falls on shane's shoulder. as he takes a breath, his lips pecks shane's collarbone a little, so innocently and lovingly. he then presses his lips against the side of shane's neck longingly, just breathing in all that the man is, feeling his pulse race under his lips. it's not just another day where they make out or anything, it became a day where ryan just realizes that shane will be the one who really will last, who really will be the one. usually he'd think that with his past relationships but at this moment, he knows it isn't like the previous at all. this is so different, so fitting. it's so right.

"ryan," shane manages to say after a while. his voice cracks, and his lips were swollen and his hands kept touching ryan's skin. all that his body was feeling was literally just ryan's body against him. he's smelling him in, hearing him breathe, seeing his lips as their foreheads press together. at some point ryan would kiss him again, although just lightly, and pull away by biting shane's bottom lip. what he knew when they first kissed was that ryan loved shane's lips so much he'd just bite them, lick them, tug at it, whatever it is that would keep him to feel it without kissing. and shane's still tasting and feeling ryan's tongue in his mouth, it seemed to just linger and doing all sorts of things in his mind. "ryan, i love you. i think i really, really love you. and kissing you. jesus, i love kissing you."

ryan laughs, his lips brushing shane's as light as feather. "i think you quoted that last line from somewhere. i kind of heard it."

"does it matter?"

"no. because i do too."

_____

it worked so well. ryan slowly began to notice his life returning as it was before he'd met shane. that carefree part of him. that bravery. it's all coming back.

and shane is still there. they're still filming together, they're still kissing each other, only they haven't had sex. shane suggested that maybe taking it slow includes that restrain, and that couples usually have sex after a couple of dates. to which they follow, of course. and it kills both of them somehow. the tension sometimes gets so thick it takes all of their strength to not grab each other and fuck right there. it's frustrating, to sit next to each other and not having to touch at all other than the faint brushing of fingers as one of them hands a coffee to the other. at work they remain ryan and shane from buzzfeed unsolved, as friends/coworkers/cohosts. they try to not mingle any personal feelings into it. it's perfect for this slow method that their relationship has taken to. 

and it goes on great. ryan can find himself unafraid of losing balance because he knows shane will be there beside, below, behind. whichever direction he'd fall into, shane would already be there. he'd always look at shane at moments of fear, usually during filming at locations for their supernatural episodes. immediately he'd just find shane's eyes, and despite everyone seeing him tremble in fear on camera, internally he's okay and calm. because shane would say something but he wouldn't hear, he'd only see his lips moving, yet that look he'd give him would be enough to just sediment his trepidations.

and shane could be in a car now. he doesn't drive himself but ryan would, he'd drive him to work, to home, to fucking Walmart at two am in the morning when shane's looking for a midnight snack and he notices he ran out of bread. he still feels a tight pain in his chest as he's sitting in the passenger so he sits at the back where the view of the road is less likely. when the road just gets too shaky and rocky, he'd grab ryan's hand and hold it to him, feel those fingers stroke his skin so gently he just loses any sense of panic. he became okay. he manages to sit in the passenger sit after a few months. and maybe he'll get around driving himself but baby steps for now. 

it's all just the same yet different; improvised, stronger. ryan can feel his friendship with shane running fast side by side with their relationship. if something goes wrong in either one of them, they'd still have the other to depend upon and it's balanced.

they're still the two dorks on the internet trying to prove each other wrong. shane still taunts the air, ryan still hears the ghosts.

and the needle stands upright. the ruler sits upon it, centralised, and the room is quiet and still. the ruler beams because there's no wind to slip past any gap and trouble its stability. the ruler feels the weight on either side but the weight is equal, the weight is symmetrical and the ruler is balanced. it's always been balanced. the ruler may tip every now and then but eventually it'd climb back onto the needle and be balanced.

however long it took. however impossible it may seem.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AHHHH thank you to whoever read this. Its my first shyan fic and I'm just!!!!!!! This chapter was sorta corny lol but I guess that's fine if you're in love. And i wanted to add in a little time for ryan and his dad since I don't really see that much in other fics
> 
> do follow me on tumblr @summoningbfu bc id want to find more bfu posts in my feed a hahaha. anyway, see you in my (maybe) next work!


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